


Change of Heart

by BastRavenshadow, Jersey_Lion



Category: Company Business
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 18:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11214057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastRavenshadow/pseuds/BastRavenshadow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jersey_Lion/pseuds/Jersey_Lion
Summary: Sam watched Peter Grushenko, and two million dollars, start away down the track.  Toward the KGB men, toward Russia, toward Sam never seeing him again.  Part of him knew it'd be best to just walk away, turn his back and go find a good woman and have a normal fucking life instead of the industrial espionage that was getting beyond his technical skill and physical strength.  He was getting too old to be gallivanting around like that, climbing out of buildings.  Too old to think about romantic notions like eloping with little Commie spies.  He wasn't forty anymore.





	Change of Heart

It was still raining when they left the restaurant and climbed into the car the CIA had left for Boyd. Pyiotr, or Peter as Boyd insisted on calling him, out of impishness Pyiotr Grushenko suspected, gazed out the window and thought about what was going on. Not the trade and bullshit about spies, but with Sam Boyd. Big man, good laugh, smart. Pyiotr found himself wondering what he really thought of being invited to run off with Pyiotr Grushenko.

Sam pulled in behind a building and glanced over at Peter. "Be right back.” He ducked out into the downpour and strode off into the darkness. Returning shortly, he gestured for Peter to exit the car and follow him. When Peter hesitated, he held up a key.

Frowning a little, Pyiotr climbed out of the car and followed the other man. "Where are we going now?" he asked suspiciously. They had a couple of hours to kill and more, but Pyiotr thought he'd caught a glimpse of some familiar twinkle in Sam's eyes. But that wasn't possible, was it?

"Got us a room," Sam said, giving him a grin. He waggled the key again.

That grin again. Pyiotr shrugged and kept an eye out for things around them, anyone taking too much notice of them. It was habit, he couldn't help it.

Sam kept an eye out, even though the little Commie was, too, and even though he'd used this little place before. It never hurt to keep an eye out. 

He led Peter up to the second floor and all the way to the end of the hallway before turning the key in the lock. Reaching in and flipping on the light, he said, "Here we are.” Standing back, he let Peter go in the room first.

"Home sweet home?" Pyiotr asked with a bit of facetiousness, eyeing Boyd as he entered the room and moved to look out the window. The room was small, but the bed was big enough. Pyiotr looked at it, then back at Sam. What was on the man's mind? Pyiotr knew what was on his own.

Sam grinned, just a little, and turned to lock the door behind them. His smile got wider when he saw Peter gazing at the bed. "Well, Peter, we've got a couple of hours to kill..."

Pyiotr's eyebrows rose. "We do.” He looked at the bed again, wondering if Boyd was thinking of a nap, or something else. The man was annoyingly good at hiding what was on his mind. Well, Pyiotr really was good at digging out secrets. "You want reason to go somewhere with me?" he asked, smirking at Sam. 

Sam tossed his coat and hat onto a chair near the bed and smirked back at the Russian. "Sure. Make your best case.” He liked the little Commie despite the fact he was a little shit. Or maybe it was because he was a little shit.

That wasn't quite what Pyiotr had meant, but then again, did it matter? Sex in prison had been quick and furtive, dangerous even. Pyiotr had been able to defend himself when necessary and he wasn't in general population anyway. This would be dangerous, quick, and he did not believe for a moment that Sam Boyd would just run off with him. But for a couple of hours, there could be pleasure, warm skin and kisses.

And he liked Boyd. 

Pyiotr smiled, and shrugged off his jacket. "Get undressed."

Sam grinned and began unbuttoning his shirt. He watched avidly as Peter undressed.

Sam liked women, sure. But he liked men, too. Usually, when he'd been with men, it was rushed. Quick. Easy and simple and over with.

The thought that this was going to be over with soon enough – thanks to the upcoming trade – niggled in the back of his mind as he finished stripping and crossed the floor to where Peter stood. As Sam reached out to touch the other man, he pushed the thought away and concentrated on here and now.

Boyd had scars, one obviously from being shot, but he was in good shape for what Pyiotr guessed his age was, muscles still strong, no excess weight hanging on his big frame. His hand, when it settled on Pyiotr's shoulder, was warm and rough skinned and sent a rush of heat through Pyiotr's body. 

Not to be left behind or mistaken for shy, Pyiotr stepped into the embrace, his hands coming to rest on Sam's waist.

Sam smiled at the confident touch and then bent to kiss him.

Straight men did not kiss other men, even when they were willing to trade hand or blow jobs, or even fuck another man. This kiss was no shy first kiss by a man exploring man sex; this was willing, rapidly becoming more demanding as Sam pulled him closer.

Sam broke the kiss and grinned down at Peter. "Bed, Mister Grushenko?"

"Bed, Mister Boyd.” Pyiotr wriggled loose and climbed into the bed, flipping the covers back on the other side.

Sam grinned, admiring Peter's backside as he climbed into bed. "Be glad to oblige," he teased as he climbed in after him.

Pyiotr snorted a laugh. He waited until Sam had stretched out, then pounced on him, pinning him down and kissing him. He didn't really believe Boyd would let him go, but if there was the slightest chance he could appeal to some part of Sam who didn't want to just do what he was told... Pyiotr would give that chance as much help as he could.

"Mm," Sam murmured as they kissed, stroking Peter's back. He liked this, very much, and hoped Peter did, too.

The light caress was arousing and comforting at the same time. Pyiotr relaxed, moving against Boyd's strong body, his cock hard now against Boyd's leg. He could feel the hardness in Sam's groin, and smiled in the kiss. 

"You feel good," Sam rumbled, squeezing Peter's butt. "Really good.” He gently coaxed Peter to move, kissing him again. There was nothing wrong with the little shit's body, it was leanly muscular, warm skinned. 

The kisses were nice, Sam's moustache tickling his lip. With the encouragement of the big hands on his ass pulling him closer, Pyiotr rocked, sighing at the wonderful feel of skin on his.

Sam arched up as Peter pressed against him. With a groan, he squeezed Peter tighter and moved him faster, rocking up into Peter. "Peter," Sam groaned, wanting to come, needing to come. When Peter gripped his hair, Sam kissed him harder. Being held so tight by Peter, being wanted so much, sent him over the edge.

The sudden pooling of hot wetness between them was gratifying and sexy and it had been so long and Pyiotr suddenly realized he liked Sam Boyd a great deal. The kiss seemed to draw pleasure through him, concentrate it and slam it right into his balls. He shivered and came, moving hard against Sam's body.

Sam relaxed under Peter, sliding his hands up to the small of his back, just holding Peter close to him.

He pressed a kiss to Peter's temple and relaxed further as Peter rested against him.

It had been a long time since Pyiotr had been held like this, as a lover might. He'd had to leave his wife when he'd left Paris, though very few people knew about that, and in America, while working at the State Department, it had been too dangerous to do more than date women, sometimes bed them. But always, he'd yearned for a man's love.

Sam continued stroking Peter's back as they rested together, thinking. He really didn't like the way this entire trade thing felt, and he admitted – to himself – that he really didn't want to turn over the Russian. He liked him. Peter was good company, and he was good in bed. Okay, Peter was a smartass, too smart for his own good sometimes, but... Sam liked it. It was a turn on, he privately admitted. And turning Peter over to Mother Russia just seemed... wrong. It had seemed wrong since he'd been recalled to do this whole dirty job. Sam actually wouldn't put it past the Company to be setting him up.

Pyiotr wanted to ask Sam again to just let him go, and yet part of him had become unwilling to put Sam in that position. He closed his eyes, letting himself feel how good this was, not wanting to think about what waited ahead. Moscow didn't really want him, America didn't want him. Boyd... well, he likely did, but not enough to set himself up to be shot as a traitor.

Pyiotr sighed, hugging gently, thinking that at least he would have these few hours to remember.

**Later, Underground**

Sam watched Peter Grushenko, and two million dollars, start away down the track. Toward the KGB men, toward Russia, toward Sam never seeing him again. Part of him knew it'd be best to just walk away, turn his back and go find a good woman and have a normal fucking life instead of the industrial espionage that was getting beyond his technical skill and physical strength. He was getting too old to be gallivanting around like that, climbing out of buildings. Too old to think about romantic notions like eloping with little Commie spies. He wasn't forty anymore. 

Not by a long shot. 

But part of him regretted coming here, making Peter go, and remembered how warm the other man's body had been held close under the covers. How his kisses lingered, how his purry accent sounded when he talked and laughed. How Sam didn't scare him, or intimidate him; seemed little did. How he'd walked away in the airport, and come back. 

Sam hesitated, the scales nearly even, undecided.

Then Soebel came into the light, and rolled his head….


End file.
